


The Kippens

by DonTheRock



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Children, Explicit Language, Homophobia, Love, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Newly weds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonTheRock/pseuds/DonTheRock
Summary: "TJ," I say, "I love you.""I know," he says with a smile. "You married me." He lets the words float for a second before adding, "I love you too.""I know," I respond, echoing back what he just said. "You married me."•TJ's parents didn't even come to their son's wedding, so he's surprised when he receives a message from them saying they want to reconnect. This, along with Cyrus's new patient, Jamie, who shares something in common with Cyrus and his husband, make it difficult for the newly weds to adjust to life as they try to decide which direction their lives should take and if they will even want to go the same way.Includes one censored homophobic slur (censored because I hate it).





	1. Chapter 1

**Cyrus' POV**  
  
  


Seeing TJ now gives me flashbacks to the first time I saw him in a suit. That was my thirteenth birthday, and I hardly spoke to him. I was too nervous. I remember feeling my breath catch in my chest for a moment when I saw him come up to me, and my pulse started racing. Back then, I thought there was no chance that he'd ever look at me the way I looked at him.

Now, 12 years later, he still makes my heart go wild, but now he's wearing a smoke grey suit with a tie I got him back when we were in post-secondary. He looks different but the same. A few strands of his blonde hair fall over his forehead, for he stopped gelling his hair back. His jaw is more defined, but his smile is still the same. And his eyes, by far my favorite part, still look at me with a certain softness only reserved for me, the way they did when we were thirteen.

Tonight, his vulnerable gaze is tinted with the excitement we both feel. The past twelve years have been anything but smooth, but everything that happened before, none of that even matters anymore, because we're hear now, listing to a classic rock song of TJ's choice, while our friends dance around us. My mom and step-dad have been up on their feet since the first song, and they show no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

TJ's sister is what breaks me out of my thoughts as she approaches TJ and I, pulling her girlfriend, Andi along by the hand. They're both dressed up formally, Amber in a puffy, pink cocktail dress, and Andi in a much simpler, yellow bodycon dress. Andi had told me that the two of them went out shopping the day TJ and I sent out the invitations.

"The food was fantastic," Amber tells her brother.

"And the cake: amazing," Andi agrees.

"The baby taters were a good choice," Amber says with a grin.

"It wouldn't be my wedding if there weren't baby taters," I respond.

TJ catches my eye with his and smiles, as though he'd forgotten why we were here and is happy to be reminded.

Behind the girls, I notice Buffy and Marty winding through the dancing people to get to us. They, too, are dressed up for the occasion, Buffy in a purple A-line dress, and Marty in a suit with a white bow tie. Right when they're almost where we are, Marty and Buffy get distracted by Marty's ringing cell phone, and Marty leaves to take the call while Buffy continues the rest of the way to us.

"Sorry about that," Buffy apologizes. "I feel like he's been on the phone all night, but his sister keeps calling. We were coming to tell yiu that your first dance was adorable."

"Thanks," I respond, blushing a little. "And don't worry about the phone calls. I know babysitting can be stressful sometimes."

"Marty's sister just worries so much," Buffy explains. "She calls for every little thing. Last week, she called us because she wasn't sure which lullaby to sing to Sabrina before bed."

Sabrina is their daughter and both Buffy's and Marty's first brush with the whole parenting thing. While pregnant, Buffy had been reading so many parenting books that she's now able to spew any and every theory on how to raise a kid. Marty, on the other hand, spent the nine months deciding which sports he was going to put her in once she becomes old enough to walk. At the moment, he's deciding between lacrosse, hockey and soccer.

"Well, if you ever need a babysitter, Cyrus and I would be happy to watch her every once in a while," TJ offers.

"Yeah," I agree.

"I might take you up on that," Buffy says.

Looking around at my circle of friends with me, I realize one is missing.

"Where's Jonah?" I ask to whoever knows.

"I saw him with Walker at the dessert table not long ago," Amber replies.

I take a step to the right to get a clear view of where Jonah and Walker still are, laughing and chatting together by the table of treats.

"I think I'm gonna head over there, too," Amber continues. "I haven't had any dessert yet. You guys want anything?"

Both TJ and I shake our heads, but Andi nods, replying, "I'll come with you."

As they leave, that's when Marty returns from his phone conversation.

"Is everything okay with Sabrina?" Buffy asks.

Marty nods. "Yeah. Abby just couldn't get her to stop crying, so I talked her through it."

Abby, Marty's sister, is fifteen and awfully inexperienced when it comes to taking care of kids. Marty's told me how she refused to babysit when she became old enough to, even when asked by the neighbours. She's only now babysitting because it's her niece, and she figured she could use the extra cash, but that definitely doesn't mean she's confident in her childcare skills.

All of a sudden, the song playing comes to an end, and the next one starts up. It's a slow song, one I recognize right away, and it was also our second choice for a first dance song: "All I Want Is You" by U2. It didn't take the top spot, but, for bringing back memories of dancing in the middle of the moonlit park after our high school graduation ceremony, it holds a special place in my heart.

Naturally, anyone who has a partner pairs off, while the single people and kids either leave the dance floor or find friends to sway to the beat with. TJ turns to me and holds out his hand, which I take simply on impulse, knowing that my hand is significantly better when it is interlinked with his. He then pulls me in, and my arms find their place on his shoulders, and his on my waist. TJ's eyes are on me, giving me butterflies the way they did when TJ first held my hand at Andi's party so long ago.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see all four of my parents watching me with my husband, smiles on their faces. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have parents like them, and having them here at my wedding is a blessing that not everyone is so lucky to have.

"TJ," I say as we rock slowly from side to side, "are you sad that your parents aren't here?"

He considers this for a moment before responding, "No. My parents haven't cared about me since Amber and I left when we were 17. I don't need people like that in my life."

"I care about you," I tell him as though those words have any ability to heal the hurt I know is burnt into him permanently.

"I know," he says. "That's why I married you."

He smiles and locks me in tighter against him. Then he brings his lips down to mine and kisses me softly, sending chills throughout my body. It's more intimate than kissing him in front of an audience after saying our vows. Even though I know people are still watching us now, it feels less like a show for the crowd and more like a game for just the two of us and nobody else.

When our lips part, I recall something that I thought about a lot leading up to today, but it hadn't crossed my mind during the wedding until this moment.

"Now I get to get my name changed on all my IDs," I say.

"I almost forgot about that," TJ responds. "You're not Cyrus Goodman anymore."

"Nope," I say. "It's Cyrus Kippen now."

TJ smiles so wide that his gums are showing. Neither of us seem to be very good at holding back the joy we're feeling, for I, too, am grinning uncontrollably.

"I think that name suits you perfectly," TJ tells me.

"So do I," I agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I just wanted to give y'all a sneak peak of my next book. I won't continue writing it until I'm finished with Last Names, though, so yeah. This is just to hype you guys up. I love y'all! Have a good day!


	2. A House

**TJ's POV**

_Nine years ago_

The jingle of sleigh bells lines the quiet of this evening. They dangle from the roof of the treehouse, crisscrossing over with fairy lights that keep the space from being completely dark. I lie on a mountain of fluffy pillows, all assorted colours and patterns. Pinholes of light manage to sneak their way from the sunset sky onto the shaded drawings and photos stuck to the wooden walls with thumbtacks. 

My cousins told me they wanted me to see their treehouse, and I figure it's a pretty good excuse to get away from my relatives for a while. They're all so busy talking about the stuff conservative families talk about—all the stuff I'd rather not listen to. When I left, my dad was talking about seeing a First Nations person on the street, and, to sum it up, my dad is more racist than he thinks he is. The worst part of it all is that nobody else seems to realize that except for my sister and I. She's currently somewhere playing with our little cousins, but I came out into the yard after dessert instead. 

A rustle of leaves gets my attention, and I sit up from my bed of pillows to see Cyrus rising up from the hole in the floor. He smiles as he finishes climbing the last few rungs of the ladder to enter the treehouse. 

"Your cousin, Rosie, sure has a lot of energy," he says with a chuckle. "I wanted to join you sooner, but she wanted to play with me, and I, being the soft boy I am, was incapable of saying no."

I laugh and reach out to wave for Cyrus to come here. He gets the cue and crawls over to lie down with me, snuggling up to my chest while I close my arm around him. It's so calm here with him that I could forget about the family gathering happening right below us. The sound from inside the house is blocked out by the treehouse walls. 

"So what did you think of your first Easter dinner?" I ask. 

"It was great," Cyrus replies. "There were some uncomfortable points when your aunt decided to bring up politics, and I was struggling to keep from starting a heated debate, but, other than that, it was nice. However, I did miss the certain charm that my own parents bring to family dinners by constantly psychoanalyzing everyone."

"I'm glad I was able to convince my parents to let you come," I say. 

"Me too," Cyrus agrees. "However, it is a bit weird when people ask who I am, and I have to say your friend. I haven't had to lie about that for a while."

I let out a sigh and rub his arm. "I'm sorry. I just don't think my parents will be able to take it—the truth."

"I know," Cyrus responds, tilting his head to look at me. "It's okay."

His hand lifts the one I have on his arm and links them together before resting back down. I'm content with this right here. Just us. Nobody has to know. But I suppose it can't stay that way forever. 

"This treehouse really is nice," Cyrus says, moving on from our old topic. "I bet Andi would love having a place like this to do her art. It'd be like an Andi Shack but in the sky."

"Yeah. My uncle built it. My dad helped."

"I always wanted one when I was young, but my parents said no."

"Well, you can have one someday," I say, "when you're not living with your parents."

"That's true," he agrees. "But we won't really need a treehouse once we have our own house. The entire place will be our hideout. There won't be any need for one in a tree."

_Ours._ The word makes me smile. I can't imagine my future without Cyrus in it, and it's comforting to know the feeling is mutual. 

"Any place we have will be perfect," I whisper, "because it'll be ours."

_Present day_

Wind chimes from the neighbours' homes jingle, and birds echo back to them as they fly back to their nests to call it a day. The sunset casts an orange glow on the yard, which has nothing more than some grass and one tree. We don't exactly have a lot to spend, so we focused our money on the inside. Cyrus opens the door. We've of course been here before to choose the house and recently to move our things in, but this is the first time we're entering as a married couple and not just two dreamers hoping things work out okay. 

We step together into the small bungalow and remove our shoes. Cyrus' face begins as a smile as he wanders into the living room and kitchen. There isn't much more than just the basic furnishings: a couch, a lamp, a coffee table, a dining table and chairs. The walls are a cream colour, although there are quite a few scuff marks tainting them. Cyrus examines every inch of the space, his eyebrows slowly turning up in slight disappointment as he notices the rust on the edges of the sink, the chips in the vertices of the cabinets, and the deep-set stains on the kitchen tiles. 

"I forgot about how much work is needed to fix it up," Cyrus says. 

"And we can fix it up together," I tell him. 

I ring my arms around my husband, and he spins to face me. He brings his own hands up over my shoulders and comes in for a kiss. Electricity sparkles through my body until we part. 

"It can all be fixed," I say. 

"What about that?" he asks, nodding toward the window. 

I don't know what idiot thought to put a window on the side of a house. The only view it has is of the neighbour's exterior wall. 

"That will be a bit harder, but look here." I nod to the sink. "A bit of scrubbing and cleaner will get the rust off." I let go of Cyrus' waist and lead him by the hand over to the gash in the cabinets. "Some sanding and a new coat of paint, and this will be gone," I go on. Then I pull him across the tiles to where they meet with the carpet of the hallway to the bedroom. "I don't know how we're going to get these stains off, but we'll figure it out."

Cyrus laughs a little along with me before putting his arms back around me to kiss me again. The energy travels between us, connecting us like magnets. As he kisses me, we make our way further down the hall, and my pulse picks up speed. Our momentum is cut off when the sound of my phone beeping in my pocket splits us apart. 

"Damn it," I mutter. 

Cyrus lets out a little chuckle at my frustration and lets me go so that I can take out my phone and check the email I just received. 

"Sorry. It's from work," I explain. 

"It's fine," Cyrus assures me. "We'll have plenty of time for us any night."

He gives me a smile and makes his way back toward the kitchen. I follow him over there and lean against the refrigerator as I scroll through the email. It's short, just some information about work. I'm a first responder, but if you had asked me when I was a teenager if that's what I wanted to be, I certainly wouldn't have said yes. But I've grown up been changed permanently by the things I've seen. 

"What's it about?" Cyrus asks. 

He goes over to open the cabinet and get out a glass as I reply, "Just more stuff about starting with the new unit tomorrow."

"Are you nervous or excited?" Cyrus asks me. 

"A mix of both," I confess.

"You'll be great," he promises. "You always do great."

He takes a step toward the fridge then retreats with a frown to return the cup to the cabinet. 

"I forgot that we haven't bought any groceries yet," Cyrus explains with a sigh. 

"Tomorrow after I get home from work we can do that," I say.

"I can't," Cyrus respond. "I have a patient scheduled."

Cyrus is a child therapist, and he works from home. He was worried about if his patients will still want to make the drive once he moved out from the apartment he shared with Andi, but they all have said they're okay with it so far. That may change, though, and Cyrus knows that, so he's planned to take on extra patients to make sure he still has enough work if the others decide to stop therapy with him. 

"On a Monday evening?" I question.

"Yeah," Cyrus answers. "He's a new one."

"Okay. I'll go on my own."

"Thanks," Cyrus says. "Now how about we have a movie night tonight?"

"We don't have a TV yet," I remind him.

"True, but I have Netflix on my laptop."

"Cool," I respond. "I'll make popcorn." Then I remember, "which we don't have any of."

"Lucky for us," Cyrus starts, "there's a 7-eleven at the end of the block."

He reaches out for my hand and pulls me toward the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you all like the second chapter. I'm really excited for this story. I'm trying to make it different than my other ones, and I'm liking it so far. Let me know what you think is going to happen throughout the story in the comments. Have a dandy day, and I'll see you in the next chapter.


	3. A Firefighter

**Cyrus' POV**

_9 Years Ago_

"Have you thought about schools?" I ask.

My hand is connected to TJ's, swinging between us as we walk through the gymnasium. Tables have been set up with pamphlets, booklets, and banners for many different universities and colleges. I've never thought about just how many options there are, and, judging by the overwhelmed faces of the swarm of high schoolers around me, neither has anyone else. 

"Not really," TJ replies. "I always just figured I'd be a basketball player."

"And I think you can for sure do that," I assure him, "but a realistic plan B is also important."

We approach the table for Shadyside University, and I scan the display. Three people stand behind the booth: one in typical professional wear, one in a nurse outfit, and the other in a blue uniform, which I at first think is a police uniform, but upon closer inspection, I notice that the badge reads "Shadyside Fire Dept." 

"Have you ever though about being a firefighter?" I ask, turning to TJ. 

He looks over at the woman in the uniform. She holds a pamphlet about the various programs offered to get a career in emergency services, but TJ doesn't step up to inspect it. 

"Nah," TJ replies. "I'll probably do English or philosophy or something along those lines."

"What can you get with a philosophy degree?" I question.

TJ ponders for a moment then answers, "A Philosophy teacher."

I chuckle, and he grins, taking a step forward to continue on to the next table, but I stay in my place, making him swing back to where he was. I let go of his hand to go up and look at the pamphlets on the table, picking up one that lists all the different programs the school offers. 

"They have several different social work, counselling, and Psychology programs," I tell TJ. 

"Are you planning to be a therapist like your parents?" he asks me.

"I'm considering it," I say. "I've been told I'm good at reading people."

I set the pamphlet down on the table and step back to take TJ's hand again. When I look at him now, he's smiling softly down at me. 

"You'd make a great therapist or counsellor or whatever you want to be," he says. 

I give him a smile in return and start walking with him again. We don't get far before I spot Jonah and Walker laughing together a small distance away from us. They don't seem to be too focused on the post-secondary fair, but more on each other as they giggle together, standing about as close as TJ and I used to stand back when we were in middle school. I call out to them, and Jonah's head snaps over to see me. At my wave, the two boys come over.

"Hey," I say. "What schools are you looking at?" 

"I'm not sure," Jonah answers. "I'm just looking at places where I can study music."

"I'm looking at Utah Valley University," Walker says. "It offers a lot of various art degrees."

"Yeah, that's the one Andi's applying to," I say. 

"Really?" Jonah says in bubbly surprise.

"Jonah," I respond, "she's your girlfriend. You didn't know that?"

Jonah glances to Walker. I can see the confusion appear on his face as though I just brought up a fact he'd forgotten. Walker doesn't have an apparent reaction, but he seems to be communicating silently with Jonah, saying something I don't have authorization to hear.

Jonah lets out a shy laugh, "I guess I have a bad memory," he says. Almost immediately after, he changes the subject, pointing off to the right. "Hey, Walker, that table has snacks!"

He grabs Walkers hand, showing an impulse I'm oh so familiar with, before realizing what he's done and letting go. A red blush powders both Jonah and Walker's faces as Jonah gets flustered and motions for Walker to follow him away from TJ and me. 

When they've left, TJ tilts his head down to get closer to my ear and whispers, "When do you think he's going to accept his feelings and tell Andi the truth?"

I turn to him, smirking, "Probably around the same time Andi accepts her feelings for Amber and tells Jonah the truth."

**TJ's POV**

_Present day_

I step into the station and immediately smell pizza. Where the scent wafts from, I can't tell. There's nobody on the bottom floor, just the three red firetrucks and a hole where I assume one must usually be. As I step further in, I begin to hear talking coming from the second floor. A spiral staircase leads up to the balcony that overlooks the rest of the station and has access to six fire poles. Following the sound of the voices, I make my way up the stairs. At the top, about fifteen or so people sit around a long table, sharing slices from a tall stack of pizza boxes. They don't notice me at first, not until I approach their table. 

The tallest one, a man with a slightly crooked nose and a stubbly chin, stands up when he sees me. Everyone else turns their sight to follow his, painting smiles on their faces. 

"You must be the new guy," says the man. "Thelonious, right?"

"TJ," I correct him. "And you must be the captain."

"Call me Flax," he replies. Then he gestures to a nearby table with only three chairs left at it. "Pull up and chair and take a seat."

Feeling the nerves of being new drain out of me, I drag a chair up to the corner space, between two guys I don't know. After a quick round of names, the conversation resumes on the far side of the table, and a new one starts among the people near me. 

"So, TJ," starts the woman across from me, Copper, "you seem pretty young. You fresh out of school?"

"No, I was actually with the 14 before coming here to the 33," I answer. "I'm 25."

"And married?" Paul, the man to my left, says, noticing my silicone wedding band. 

"Eh, how many years?" Another man, Hunt, asks.

"Three days," I reply. 

That gets me grins of surprise from the whole end of the table, followed by a stream of congratulations. Jesse, the guy to my right, gives my shoulder a pat.

"Welcome to the married life," he says while chewing a bite of his pizza. "What's her name?"

"Whose?" I reflect, unsure of what he's asking. 

"Your wife's," Jesse clarifies. 

"Uh, well, I don't have one of those, but my husband's name is Cyrus."

A short silence falls on the table as my new team processes the information, but Jesse adjusts quickly to respond. 

"Oh, cool," he says. "What does he do?"

"He's a child therapist," I answer. 

"That's what my nephew is," Copper says. 

All of a sudden, the bell blares, sparking us all onto our feet. Instantly, Captain Flax starts bellowing orders, giving almost everyone a task. All the mentioned names rush to propel themselves down the fire poles. By the time he's finished giving orders, mine is the only name left uncalled. 

"Uh, Captain," I call, hurrying up to the giant man. He looks down at me as I ask, "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to watch the station," he answers.

"You want me to stay here?" I say. The excitement that came from joining the team for pizza sinks in an instant. 

"It's nothing personal," he insists. "We just have this team dynamic worked out, and it'd just be easier if you just sat this one out."

He gives my back a hard pat before walking off toward the fire poles. 

I stand, dumbfounded, not sure how to feel. I guess it makes sense. I did just get here. But I was also hoping to be a part of the team today, and this feels like being stuck outside some glass clubhouse they're all in. 

Copper's voice catches my attention as she passes by. "Welcome to being the new guy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Yeah, that's basically it. I love you all, so have a good night!


	4. Parents

**Cyrus' POV**

_8 Years Ago_

TJ paces the carpet of my room, while I sit cross-legged on my bed, watching him carefully. His anxiety is so prominent he practically glows with it, muting the red of my walls with a darkness that chokes the light out of the room. This is an example of one of the few times when I wish I wasn't so connected to him, for his fear stings my body, trapping my muscles in stiffness that I can't break. I rarely see him like this, but this is a situation he's never been in before—and it's one he's willingly putting himself in. He wants to come out to his parents. 

"Maybe this is a mistake," TJ says, making a complete one-eighty from where he previously was on this idea. "Amber hasn't told mom and dad. Maybe she has a good reason."

"Maybe," I say. 

"But I'm not her, right?"

"Right."

"And If I want to tell them, then I can. But how?"

"TJ," I say, interrupting his train of thought. "I know you, and I know that you can do anything if you believe you can. You are the bravest person I know."

TJ stops his pacing and just stands there in the middle of the room. However, his eyes wander around the space aimlessly like bumblebees.

"I'm scared," he utters, releasing a heavy breath with the words. 

At that, I undo my legs from their position and stand up off the bed. His hand stops shaking as soon as I touch it and take it in mine, and he looks me in the eye. 

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," I remind him. "Don't come out if you're not sure it's safe."

TJ takes his other hand and closes it over mine. Then he gives me a small smile.

"I'm gonna do it," he says. "Right now."

He drops my hand and starts toward my bedroom door, but my voice catches him on the way out, causing him to look back and listen to me say, "TJ." 

I keep my eyes firmly on his, letting my racing heartbeat drown out the sound of the subtle air blowing through the vents on the floor. 

"No matter what happens," I tell him, "I love you."

His face melts into a soft smile as he responds, "I love you too."

Then he leaves, not using enough force to close the door fully, so there's still a sliver of silent space between it and the doorframe. 

_Present Day_

After hearing the doorbell, I open up the door to meet my new patient with a smile. What I see is not unusual. A boy stands with his arms crossed, eyes down on the ground. His father has his hand on the boy's shoulder, and he extends his free one out to shake mine. 

"Hi," I say. The 13 year-old doesn't look at me, but his dad gives me a smile. "I'm Dr. Cyrus Kippen."

"Hi," the man says. "I'm Ron, and this is Jamie, my son."

Ron shakes Jamie's shoulder, and the boy gets the hint and drops his arms. 

"Hi," he mutters. 

"Okay, well," his dad huffs, "I'll leave him to you."

Ron gives his son a pat on his shoulder before stepping down the porch steps and back to his car, leaving Jamie standing outside alone. I know from experience that it often takes a while for the kids to warm up to me, so Jamie's hesitation is expected, but it still saddens me to see him so nervous.

"Come on in," I say. 

Surprisingly, he does so right away, and I gently close the door behind him. The boy takes off his shoes and starts scanning my home. 

"So how are you?" I ask him, trying to sound as kind as possible without sounding like I'm talking to a child, knowing that would only cause him to feel disrespected. 

He shrugs in response. 

"Okay, well, why don't you follow me down the hall to my office—"

"Why is it so empty?" Jamie interrupts.

He wanders into the living room, looking around at the bare space. There's still no television, but there are a few pillows on the couch which Andi sewed and designed for TJ and I as a wedding gift. I can tell he's stalling, hoping to waste as much time as he can before starting his therapy session, but I want him to feel comfortable, so I play along.

"I just moved in," I answer. 

He looks around, walking into the kitchen to examine the space. He freezes in his place when his sight falls on the framed photo on the wall. It's one of TJ and my wedding pictures. In it, we're dressed in our suits and facing each other with our foreheads together in front of a background of blurry foliage. 

"Who's this?" Jamie asks, turning to meet my eyes for the first time. 

"That's my husband," I reply.

The boy returns his gaze to the photo, waiting for a minute before responding, "You have a husband?"

"Yes," I confirm.

Jamie doesn't move. He just stands there, and I can see his hands trembling as he stares at the image. Now I think I know why he's here, though I do wonder if his dad knows why he's here or if he just thinks he's troubled, maybe depressed or anxious. But all of that remains yet to be uncovered. 

"Are you ready to come to the office now?" I ask after a moment of nothing.

Jamie turns away from the photo and gives me a gesture that is so simple yet lets me know that I've earned some bit of his trust: he nods. 

______________________________________

The lightbulbs in the house work hard to combat the blackness of the night, but they do a poor impersonation of daylight, pasting a yellow coating on every wall and object within them. Having just finished with Jamie, I'm now busy writing a list of groceries to buy. I'm surprised TJ's not home yet, and when I hear the home phone ring, I think it must be him, but the number that appears on the screen is one I don't recognize, so I let it go to voicemail. But the message that sounds out over the speaker isn't a telemarketer as I expected, and I drop my pencil to listen to the voices which I haven't heard since I was 17. 

"TJ," crackles a woman's voice, "it's your mother. I know your dad and I haven't spoken to you in a long time, but we realized that we were wrong to give up on you. We should've tried harder rather than get mad. Could you call us back please?"

I stand with my mouth agape. _How did they even get our number? What do they want from TJ? _

Suddenly, the front door knob twists, and in comes my husband. After kicking off his shoes and hanging his coat on the rack, he comes over to greet me in the kitchen. My shocked face changes to a smile, and he approaches and wraps his arms around me to pull me in to a gentle kiss. 

"How was your first day with the new unit?" I ask as he lets me go. 

"Well, I didn't step foot out of the station," he says.

"What?" 

"It's because I'm new," he explains, his eyes flicking downward. "I'm sure tomorrow will be better."

TJ frowns. He's already not feeling too great, so I'm hesitant to bring up the call from his parents, but TJ notices my expression of contemplation and questions me on it. 

"Everything okay?" 

"Well," I start, "your parents called."

He takes a step back, clearly not sure how to take in this information. Then he shakes his head. 

"No," he says. "It can't be them. I've been dead to them for eight years."

"Listen for yourself," I say, gesturing to the answering machine. 

TJ goes over immediately, eager to prove me wrong, but the reality turns him to stone as soon as he presses play. He stays motionless after it's finished playing, and I go over to put my hand on his shoulder. He brings his own up to touch mine and laces our fingers together. Then he brings our hands down to hang between us. 

"I don't get it," he says. "Why are they calling now? It's been eight fucking years, and they call now?"

His grip on my hand is tight, probably due to the stress he's feeling right now, and I withstand it because I know he needs a strong support. 

"Try not to worry about it," I say gently. "Nothing they do or say now can take away the life you have," I remind him. "Take a breath."

He draws in a lungful of air, letting it out in one long puff. His grip relaxes a little as the tension in his muscles releases.

"I wonder if Amber got a call too," TJ says.

"You can find out tomorrow," I tell him. "For now, you should focus on getting a good sleep."

He nods and lets my hand fall. He takes a step toward the hallway before turning back ask me, "You coming?"

"In a minute," I reply. "I'm just gonna finish up this grocery list."

His eyes flick over to where the pencil and notepad sit on the countertop. 

"Sorry, I couldn't get those tonight," he says. 

"Don't apologize," I say. "It's okay."

He smiles and starts to turn around, but he looks back once more as I speak again. 

"TJ," I say, "I love you."

"I know," he says with a smile. "You married me." He lets the words float for a second before adding, "I love you too."

"I know," I respond, echoing back what he just said. "You married me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is really cute. I hope y'all like the story so far, and there's a lot of just interesting things to come. I like where it's going. Anyway, if you haven't already done so, make sure to check out my new Ambi story, Control. It's going to be pretty different (in a good way) from what I'm written so far, and I'm excited to push the boundaries on my writing abilities. Thank you so much for reading. Happy daylight savings, and have a good night!


	5. Sister

**TJ's POV**

_7 Years Ago_

"You're lucky," Amber states. 

Her eyes are firm on the road, staring into the darkness of the country roads beyond the range of the headlights. Every once in a while, a streetlight glows down on us like a heating element in a toaster, but it does nothing to fight the cold air. I see another car's headlights fly past us light fireflies before drenching us back in the stillness of 1:24 a.m. 

I keep my eyes turned out the window. Although she's not my mom, she likes to think she knows better than me, and it kills me—especially when I know she's right. 

"I don't understand why you started hanging out with Reed and Lester again—"

"Because, Amber—" I cut her off, my voice cracking into a squeak. I pause, trying not to let myself cry, but my headache pounds on my skull, screaming at me to let everything out that I'm trying to contain. "I'm . . . It's hard."

She looks at me softer now, realizing that this isn't some act of rebellion but just misdirection. I know Reed and Lester aren't the best, and Reed certainly isn't much different now than he was when we were 13. Now that he's 18, it's even easier for him to do stupid stuff. 

"I just don't want to pick up my phone next time to hear someone telling me you were shot and not someone's property."

"I know," I mutter. "Amber, I just don't know what to do. Nothing makes me smile anymore, and I can't think clearly anymore, and I just . . ." My strength breaks, and the tears come flowing out. "What the fuck did I do?"

Glancing between me and the road, she reaches out to touch my hand in an attempt to calm me. 

"It'll get easier," she promises. 

She gives me a smile, and I try to smile back, but I just can't get past my mood. 

What happens next comes in a blur. I look back to the road, but it's not the road we're headed toward. Within milliseconds, I hear the crumple of the hood of the car as it collides with a tree trunk, the shatter of glass spikes my ears as the airbag steals my vision, and my sister's scream stings the air, ringing even after her voice is gone. 

The airbag releases, and I look over to my sister in the driver's seat. Her eyes are closed, and her head is bleeding from a large gash right above her eyebrow. I outstretch my arm to give her a light shake, noticing that my own hand is dripping red as well, but I can't feel it. 

"Amber!" I shout, but I get no response. 

I can hear the blood pulsing through my skull, and I search for the training I've had since I was a kid on what to do in situations like this. My phone's screen is so bright it hurts my head, and my fingers have been jolted so much that it's hard to get them to follow orders from my brain, but I manage to type the numbers: 911. 

I'm sure it's longer than a minute, but it all seems to happen to fast. I hear sirens approaching, and the flash of lights colours everything around me. Then the voices come, the voices I will never forget. These are the voices that will echo in my mind whenever I look at my sister again. They are the reason she will be alive tomorrow. These are what angels sound like, whether you believe in heaven or not. And from this moment on, I know I want to be one of those voices for someone else—the sound of hope that they will be able to see another sunrise. 

_Present Day_

"Nice place," Amber says as she steps into my house. "When are you gonna get the rest of it?"

She laughs, but I just shake my head at the joke. 

"If you want to buy me some furniture, that'd be great," I respond with a chuckle. 

She drapes her jacket over the coatrack and passes by me toward the kitchen. She stops and spins around in the space to get a full look at it. 

"You weren't kidding when you said you need to go shopping," she says. "You don't even have a kettle?"

"Nope."

She shakes her head in fake disappointment then pulls out a chair to sit down at the table. I join her, taking the other end of the structure. 

"So," she says, "I do believe you had a different reason for inviting me over—as much as I'm sure you love me judging your place."

"I do," I say. "I wanted to ask you about something. I got a call from Mom and Dad yesterday."

"You too, huh?" she says bitterly. "Yeah, I deleted the message as soon as I heard who it was from."

"You weren't curious?" I ask. "About what they had to say?"

"TJ, they threw us both out without a second thought. We weren't their kids unless we were straight. I spent years dwelling on that fact. They stole so much of my life already, and I'm not going to let them take any more of it."

I focus down at my hands on the table, considering what she's saying. As much pain as they caused me, I want to believe that they might want to make it right. There's no way they can be just heartless. Anyone, even the coldest people on this earth, feel guilt. Is it that strange for me to think my parents might feel guilty and want to make things right? 

"I think I'm going to give them a chance," I say. "If they want to apologize, I should at least hear what they have to say."

I can tell by Amber's face that she doesn't agree with me, but she doesn't say so. 

"You're a grown adult who can make his own decisions," she says. "I'm not in charge of you anymore."

"Even when you were in charge of me, it's not like I ever listened to you," I say with a grin. 

"True," she concurs. 

We share a chuckle, going silent when it fades, surly both caught up in the memories of when it was just the two of us trying to win at life. 

"Thank you," I say, causing her to turn her eyes back up to me. "I don't think I said that enough. You didn't have to leave with me, but you did. You've always been there for me."

She gives me a gentle smile. "I'm your big sister. I would never not be there for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! That's all I'm gonna say, because I want to get working on the next chapter. I love you all. Good night!


	6. Kids

**Cyrus' POV**

_7 Years Ago_

"You're still unpacking?" Buffy questions. "How much stuff do you have?"

The girl peaks over my shoulder, trying to sneak a peak at what I'm looking at. I knew when I agreed to share a dorm with her that the next few years at Shadyside University would be a lot of her getting even more into my life than she already was, and even though I would usually not care, I know that she will certainly have an opinion about this, me staring at an old photo of TJ and me from back when we were in high school. It's the last good photo we took together, a selfie of us on his couch, my chin on his shoulder, eyes gazing up at his lips. He kissed me after that. I remember it. I remember everything about him—his seafoam green eyes, the slight crookedness of his smile, the way he touched me so delicately like a treasure he couldn't bear to lose. It's ironic thinking about that now. 

Although I press the photo against my chest in an attempt to block it from Buffy's view, she's already seen it, and she immediately goes into overprotective best friend mode. 

"No, Cyrus, don't do this to yourself," she orders. "Get rid of that."

I can't even respond. I know she's right. I know that it's not healthy for me to be holding on to this picture. It only makes me miss him more. 

"I've never tried it for myself, but Kaitlin's told me that when she breaks up with a boy, she takes every old photo she has of them and burns them in a fire pit," Buffy illustrates. 

"I'm not burning this," I reply in a heartbeat. No matter how much I need to forget about TJ and move on, I refuse to do something so permanent, so tragical, to this piece of paper which depicts who held my heart for the past five years. He still holds it, even though he tried to give it back. 

"Fine," Buffy huffs. "Then just give it to me. I'll keep it safe and away from you so that you can move on."

Reluctantly, I hold out the photo, and Buffy swipes it away so fast I have no time to change my mind. She walks it over to her dresser and pulls out a little, wooden box then tucks it into there. I frown at her from where I'm kneeling next to my suitcase on the carpet, not purposefully wanting to give her this expression. I just can't hide my sadness. 

"You'll be okay," Buffy assures me. "You'll meet someone else in no time, and pretty soon you'll forget he ever existed."

I know that's supposed to be comforting, but it's not. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to move on from him. I want him back. But he doesn't want me. 

"You know he's hanging out with Reed and Lester again now?" I mention.

Buffy raises her eyebrows at me. "How do you know that?"

"I—" I sigh. "I saw it on his Instapic."

She instantly holds out her open palm, saying, "Give me your phone."

I do as asked, unlocking it for her. I know exactly what she's doing, and I know it's only best for me. 

"There," she says as she passes me back the device. "You are not following him anymore."

I look at the screen, curious more than anything about what the blue bar by his name says. A throb hits my chest when I see that it says "follow back" rather than just "follow." He's still following me. But only digitally. In person, he hasn't spoken to me in a month. 

I'm not sure if it's for myself or for him—to give myself an extra guard or to force him to let me go—but I tap the three dots in the top right corner of his profile page. The options pop up, and I press the one I never once imagined I'd press on his profile. I press "block."

_Present Day_

By the time Jamie and I are finished with his session, TJ is already home. When Jamie exits my office and sees my husband sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, he bolts in his direction. I've never seen him so excited before. He skids to a stop in front of TJ, and TJ looks up from his phone. 

"Hi," Jamie says.

"Hi," TJ responds. 

He flicks his eyes over to me, silently wondering what's going on, but I just shrug, not knowing the answer.

"You're Cyrus' husband?" Jamie asks.

"I am," TJ answers, a smile spreading on his face. 

"I'm Jamie."

The boy sticks out his hand, and TJ politely takes it to shake. 

"Nice to meet you, Jamie. I'm TJ."

Jamie grins wide looking at TJ, but responds after a moment, "Unfortunately, my dad is waiting for me outside, but I'm ecstatic that I had the opportunity to make your acquaintance."

TJ and I share a glance, both surprised by the 13 year-old's vocabulary. 

Jamie heads toward the door, giving TJ and I one last wave before stepping out to the street. I close the door behind him, and TJ stands up to come over to me. 

"He's interesting," TJ says, "a ball of energy."

"He wasn't that way the first time I met him," I respond, "but he seems to have become more comfortable with me, and apparently you too."

TJ puts his arm around me to give me a little side hug. Then he moves on to a new topic. 

"Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?" he asks me. 

"Actually," I say, "I promised Buffy we'd watch Sabrina. She and Marty are having a date night, and they needed a babysitter."

"You said I'd babysit?" he says with a laugh. "And they agreed? They're entrusting me with their kid's life?"

"I think Marty's hoping if she spends enough time around you, she might become a star basketball player," I joke. "Between you and Buffy, I think it would be inevitable."

"Well, if that's the goal, then how can I say no," TJ replies.

"Wonderful." I get on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek then say, "They expect us there in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes?" TJ echoes. 

"Yes," I confirm. "So let's go."

TJ looks taken aback by the short notice, and I can't help but chuckle a little at that as I reach for my coat. 

__________________________________________

Buffy and Marty live in a quaint, two-story house with plenty of character. Arabian-style tiles coat the kitchen floor, and white cabinets with funky, floral edges hold their items. Now that Sabrina is in bed, TJ is busy washing the dishes, which are all colourful plastic plates and cups to avoid being broken by the baby. After spending the evening playing and entertaining her, TJ and I are both a little tired. I can't imagine how Buffy and Marty must feel all the time.

"Has everything else been cleaned up?" I ask. 

"I think so," TJ responds. 

"Great," I say. "Then I'm gonna go check on Sabrina."

TJ glances back at me with a grin. "Man, you just can't leave that baby alone, eh?"

"She's so cute," I reason. 

He lets out a breathy chuckle and turns back to his work. I go toward the stairs to head up to Sabrina's room. A tiny elephant-shaped nightlight illuminates the pale blue wall in a small ring of light by the floor. On the far end of the room, a crib sits in the shadows, and I quietly go over to see the baby lying soundless in it. She's not crying anymore like she was when I left her to go to sleep. Now she's motionless like a little doll, and I can't help but feel a little jealous of my friends who have been blessed with the opportunity to raise this little girl. 

Suddenly, I feel a pair of arms wrap around me, and a warm kiss is pressed to my head. My eyes stay on the tiny human in the crib, but my body softens in TJ's embrace. In the quiet of the moment, a thought comes to my head.

"TJ," I say, "have you thought about having kids someday?"

TJ and I sway together gently as we stand, and his voice comes in a whisper.

"I think that's something I want at some point in my life," he replies. 

"Me too," I agree. 

"I'm glad we're on the same page." He waits for a moment before adding, "You're going to be an amazing dad."

In response, I don't say anything. Instead, I spin to face him and bring my lips to his. We stay together, letting our kiss fill the silence with its own music, a song that can't be heard but can be felt louder than any sound produced by the Earth alone. We are something greater than the physical universe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of you were wondering why TJ was so upset in last chapter's flashback, eh? Well, it wasn't because of his parents. Uh, thanks for reading. I love you all. Let me know your opinion on, I don't know, Christmas carols before December.


	7. A Past

**Cyrus' POV**

_6 Years Ago_

Jacob has many good qualities that I like. He's a palaeontology major, so he shares my love of dinosaurs and prehistoric animals. My friends like him, especially Jonah and Walker, because Jacob knows how to play the guitar, and they like to bond over that. But Jacob doesn't make me come to the park with him so that he can play basketball, or spend evenings fluttering his fingers over piano keys, singing songs while I listen from the couch, letting myself fall asleep to the music. 

If you'd ask me if I cared that he didn't do those things, I'd say no. But he knows me past the words I say, and that is apparently obvious in this situation now, him standing facing me in the middle of the courtyard, breaking up with me. 

"Cyrus," Jacob says, "I know you're still hung up on your ex."

"But I'm not—"

"Cyrus, stop," he cuts me off. 

I do like him. At least I thought I did up until this moment. But thinking about it, I don't think TJ's ever really left the back of my mind. His memory has always been there, acting as a basis for comparison. Anything Jacob does, I think about how different or similar it is to TJ. But I do like Jacob—just not enough. 

"Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you don't miss TJ," Jacob questions. 

I stay silent. If I say no, I'd be confirming his belief that I never felt for him what he felt for me. But if I say yes, I'll be lying. 

After a few seconds of waiting for a response that isn't coming, Jacob shakes his head and takes a step back. 

"Do the next boy a favour," he says. "Figure your shit out before you go and play with someone else's heart."

He turns around and marches off, and I'm left standing alone outside. I hear the door swing open as he enters the school, but my eyes are on nothing in particular, allowing my brain to focus on my thoughts. Will I ever get over TJ or will he always just be there in my memories, affecting everything and do and everyone I talk to? I thought I'd moved on. Now I just feel guilty for making Jacob think I could care about him the way I should've—the way I cared about TJ. 

I hear thunder crackle above me. I think it's going to start raining soon. 

_Present Day_

**TJ's POV**

Captain stops the truck on the side of the road near a parked Prius where the call came from. Now no longer the new guy, I'm a fully-functioning part of this team. Copper had told me that when she was new here, it took a few days for the others to warm up to her, and the same held true for me. I step out of the truck and head over to where she and the group are huddled around a blonde woman, shivering in a tank top in this 50-degree-fahrenheit weather. I assume she must be the woman who called to let us know about this car roll-over on a street that just kisses the outskirts of town. 

"It's over there," she says, pointing into the trees where a shiny surface peeks out from the shrubbery. "I didn't want to move him, because he's bleeding a lot."

"Okay, thank you, ma'am," Flax tells her, then he looks to us and starts spouting orders.

Jesse and I descend into the ditch on the edge of the road and are the first to reach the vehicle. The burgundy minivan is sitting right side up, but it's apparent that it wasn't always that way by the crushed roof and doors. Inside the vehicle, a man sits upright. If you ignore the numerous cuts and gashes on his head and limbs, he almost looks completely normal, aside from the thin tree branch impaled through the centre of his chest. I check to see if he still has a pulse. It's weak, but it's there. 

"We need to cut the branch," Jesse says. "TJ, can you grab the saw from the truck?"

I bolt away to do that, passing by my teammates who are all taking care of other aspects of the injuries. Right as I'm about to open the back of the truck to search through the equipment, I notice something hanging from the rearview mirror of the Prius owned by the woman who made the call. It's a little golden cross ornament, the same one my parents had when I was a kid. It makes me lose my focus for a second before I remember what I'm doing and continue opening the truck to retrieve the saw and take it back to Jesse. 

I hurry over to him, ready to cut the branch, but Jesse's eyes are glossy now from a layer of tears not fallen. He shakes his head, and I slow down, stopping a couple metres from the vehicle. 

"We lost him," Jesse says. 

I stare at the man in the seat. He's been bandaged up in a few places, but some wounds remain untouched. My teammates must not have been able to get to them. They ran out of time. They ran out of time, and I can't help but think it's my fault. I got distracted. If I had been more focused, we might've been able to get this man out alive in time. But now he's dead, and I can't change that.

_________________________________________

When I get home, I need nothing more than to get my anger out. Between the man who died—Travis Duckly, we found out his name was—and the reminder of my parents wanting to reconnect with me, I have more on my mind than I can keep a handle on. But the person I want to talk to is still busy in his office, so I fill up the brand-new kettle that Amber bought for me with some water and set it on the stove. Once it's boiling, I pour it into a cup with an earl grey tea bag. Then I take a seat at the kitchen table and wait. I hold the warm cup in my hands, sipping it every once in a while, but it hardly does anything to calm the gross feeling I have. 

My attention turns toward the office door in the hallway as it squeaks open. Jamie waves at me enthusiastically as he passes the kitchen, and I give him a smile in response, though it's hard to do anything but frown right now. 

"Bye, TJ," he says.

"Bye," I reply.

Cyrus notices my mood the second he looks at me, but he continues walking Jamie out of the house before returning to the kitchen and sitting down across from me. He clasps his hands together on the table, putting his weight on his arms. 

"What's going on?" he asks. 

It takes me a minute to turn my thoughts into something that I can explain through words. 

"There was this call today," I start, my voice low. "It was a guy whose car had rolled over." A raspiness envelopes my throat as I finish, "He didn't make it. And I feel like it was my fault."

Concern floods Cyrus' face, and he gets up to come around to the chair next to me and put his arm around me, bringing me close to him. A tear drips from my eye, opening up a gateway for more to rain down. 

"I got distracted," I go on. "I was thinking about my parents, and I took too long, and now a man's dead because of me."

"It's not your fault," Cyrus tells me. "You don't know if you being quicker would've made any difference at all."

"It was my job to help him."

"And sometimes you can't." He says it so matter-of-factly that it shoots down the next thoughts I had lined up to say. "TJ, sometimes you do what you can, and sometimes you mess up doing that, and things happen, and you just have to accept that and move on. You've lost people before. You can't let this get to you, because it's going to affect you every day at work if you do."

It feels like he's lifted a weight off my chest by insisting that it's not my fault, but there's still that little bit of the situation biting at me, telling me I could've done more to chance the outcome, and it keeps me from feeling completely settled. I don't want this to happen again, and I can only think of one way to do that. I need to resolve my past in order to move forward. 

"I'm thinking about calling my parents back," I mutter. 

Cyrus' arm falls, and he shifts in his seat, looking like he suddenly can't find a comfortable position. 

"TJ, I know you want things to be better between you and your parents, but I think it's best that you leave them in the past."

"Amber said the same thing," I say. 

"I think you should listen to her," Cyrus says. "They hurt you before, and I don't want you to get hurt again if they don't see things your way." He sighs. "Please don't make this decision too rashly. Take some more time to think about it."

I nod, whispering, "Okay."

"Thank you," he says. 

He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, injecting a tender chill into my body. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to make anything too graphic, so I kept things vague in the middle section. I actually really like how this chapter turned out, so I hope y'all do too. I'm striking tomorrow, so there likely won't be an update, but there might be. Have a wonderful night!


	8. Jamie

**TJ's POV **

_5 Years Ago_

I pause the TV when I hear the jingle of keys enter the room. Amber walks into the room in a stunning dark blue dress. It has thin straps and a strip of sparkles lining the hem of the skirt.

"New dress?" I ask. 

Amber grabs her pearl white purse off the kitchen island while she answers, "I'm going on a date to some fancy restaurant, and I don't know if I'm over or underdressed."

"You look great," I tell her. "I'm sure you'll fit in fine. Who's the date with?"

She halts her rushed movement to say, "Andi."

"Finally," I respond with a laugh. "Took you two long enough."

"Yeah, yeah," she says with an eye roll. "Good luck on your own date tonight," she adds. "Don't get into any trouble. Be nice. Make good choices."

"Amber, I'm twenty," I respond. "We both know my choices will be questionable at best."

She shakes her head, laughing with me as she reaches for the door. 

"See you," she says before stepping out of the apartment as closing the door behind herself. 

With her gone, I could press play on the remote and continue the show I was watching, but I don't. Instead, I find myself thinking about my date which I have to leave for soon. It's with a guy I met online. From what I know of him, he's good-looking, kind, and outdoorsy, someone I would surly get along with easily. But Amber going out with Andi has reminded me of Andi's best friend, a man I don't talk to anymore. I couldn't even do so if I tried, for I think he's blocked me on every platform there is. We're strangers now, but I still remember him inside and out. Usually, I keep the memory repressed so it doesn't bother me, but now that it's been brought up to the surface, I don't think I'll be able to see another guy tonight and not think of how much I wish he were Cyrus. 

I feel like a bit of a dick as I take out my phone and message the guy I was supposed to meet in a few hours to tell him that I can't make it anymore, but I've already tried using other guys to forget the one I'm still thinking about, and it never did any good for me nor for the guys I used, and I don't want to do that to another person. I don't want to pretend I'm ready for a new relationship when I'm clearly not. I'm not sure when I will be. 

**Cyrus' POV**

_Present Day_

"What do you think will get this stain off?" I ask as I hear TJ come down the hall. 

TJ's hair is wet from showering, and he wears a pair of dark green pyjamas that I bought him last year for the December holidays. He stops beside me to examine my work. I lean the mop against the wall to give myself a chance to stretch my arms. I've been scrubbing at the tiles for fifteen minutes now, and nothing has changed. The brown mark is still printed on the floor. 

"I hear Mr. Clean Magic Erasers are pretty good," TJ replies. 

"We'll have to buy some of those," I say. 

We both turn our attention to the door when we hear the doorbell ring, and since I'm not in my pyjamas yet, I'm the one to answer the door. Jamie is among the last people I'd expect to be standing outside in the cold, shivering in only a hoodie, and carrying a backpack stuffed full, but he's the one here. He looks scared, though I don't know what of, and I wave for him to come inside so that I can close the door. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just don't know where else to go."

"What do you mean?" I question. "Why can't you go anywhere else?"

"My dad kicked me out."

Immediately, I find myself looking at TJ whose eyes are glued on Jamie. I can imagine what memories are flooding through his head right now. 

"I came out to them," Jamie continues. "I told him I'm gay."

I had no idea that he was even considering doing that. He's never mentioned wanting to tell his dad, but based on what he's said about them and his beliefs, I wouldn't have recommended it. 

"He kicked you out of the house because of that?" I say, my chest feeling tight. 

"He told me he couldn't recognize me anymore," Jamie says. His eyes are turning red now as they fill with tears. "Can I stay here?"

Knowing that's not my decision to make alone, I glance over at TJ. He waves for me to come with him.

"One minute, okay?" I tell Jamie, and he nods.

I follow TJ down the hall and into our room so that we can talk in private. As soon as the door's closed, TJ's anger boils up.

"What kind of parent casts their kid out like that?" TJ growls. "Do you think he'll want him back soon?"

"I don't know," I respond. "Jamie's dad didn't strike me as a bad person. He might just be overwhelmed and need some time to realize he's wrong, or he might never change his mind, in which case, we'd need to figure out what to do with Jamie, because he'll need a real family."

"Until we determine that," TJ says, "I'm fine with letting him stay here. He needs a place to sleep."

I smile. "I agree."

I take a deep breath and let it drain out slowly. I feel nervous, nervous for this teenage boy without a home. I just want to do what is right, and it's difficult to know what that is, but I feel like this can't be the wrong choice. 

TJ and I head back out into the loving room where Jamie is anxiously waiting with wide eyes, bringing with me an extra blanket. I place it down on the couch, and Jamie watches. I can tell that he's feeling slightly less terrified, but he won't let himself feel relieved just yet.

"Do you need anything before you go to sleep?" I ask him. 

A smile curves the ends of his mouth as he relaxes. 

He shakes his head. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Okay," I say. "If you need anything, just let me or TJ know."

He nods, and I look back to see a soft smile on TJ's face, confirming to me that we're doing the right thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was striking yesterday, hence why I didn't update. There is another big strike on November 29th. In Calgary, it starts at noon at City Hall. In other places, it could be a different time or place, but I'm not sure. Check the Fridays For Future page for your city or town to find out where and when your local strike is. Please come out if you can! In Calgary, we'll be having speakers, consisting of some amazing fellows I know. If you can't bring a sign, there will be sign making, but you don't need a sign. Just your face and voice to speak up for our planet. Tell all your friends and everyone you know. Please. Thanks for reading and have a great day!


	9. Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter: homophobia. 

**TJ's POV**

_8 Years Ago_

My parents are traditional, to put it simply. They think God made women to be with men, and that anyone who says they're gay has been influenced by modern society. That truth bugs me as I step inside my house and see my parents and sister turn to look at me. Having just come from talking with Cyrus, I'm running on the adrenaline of my decision, not letting my fears render me incapable of speaking this time. I think that when I tell them I'm gay, they might think differently about gay people, because it's their son and not some random person they don't know. 

Both my parents are sitting on the couch together, minds stuck in the episode of Food Network show they're watching, while my sister is at the desk at the back of the room, working on homework. The TV stays playing as I come in and sit down on the armrest of the sofa perpendicular to the one my parents are on. 

"Hi, TJ," my mom says. 

"Hi." The sound of the television drowns out my thoughts, and I can't remember the wording I was going to use anymore. "Can you guys pause the TV for a second?"

My mom looks at me, confused, but she does as I ask. Now the full attention of my family is on me. Even my sister is peering from her desk, wondering what I'm about to do. I didn't talk her her about my idea, so she's probably trying to figure out what I'm going to say right now. 

"What did you need to interrupt our show for?" my dad questions. 

"I just wanted to talk to you for a minute," I say. 

My pulse must be powered by my parents' eyes, because I have to look slightly past their heads in order to keep my nerves from overloading with terror. Second thoughts start to prick my brain, but I shove them away. I've made the decision to tell them, so I'm going to tell them. 

"What is it?" my mom asks. 

I can tell by her face that she's starting to worry a little now, but my dad remains stoic. 

"Before I tell you, I just want to make sure you know," I start, "that I'm no different than I ever was. I'm the same boy you raised—"

"Hold on," my dad cuts me off. "Tell us what?"

My sight flickers over to Amber who's staring at me, wide-eyed. She knows what I'm about to say, and I can't tell if she thinks I should continue or stop. 

"I'm, uh, gay."

This is the moment when everything crumbles. It takes a few minutes before my dad says anything, and when he does speak, it's not good.

"You're what?" he checks, his tone low and flat. 

I mutter the answer again, "I'm gay."

He shakes his head, not looking at me anymore. "No you're not."

I don't know what to say. Do I pretend I was joking? Do I promise my honesty? Amber's eyes are down on her homework now, but she's not doing the work. She's listening. 

"Dad," my voice scratches out. 

"No, no, I didn't raise a f*ggot," he snaps, words crisp and hard. 

My stomach drops and my body goes paralyzed. I don't know what to do anymore. I just wish I could take back everything I said, rewind and choose not to say it. My mother isn't looking at me. She keeps her eyes down on the floor, letting my dad do the talking. 

After another minute, my dad finally speaks again, this time low and cold. "Get out."

Tears start to well up as I realize what's happening. "Dad—"

My dad shoots up on his feet, yelling, "I said get out! You want to be gay? Fine! But my son isn't gay!"

I look to my mom now, begging, "Mom."

She doesn't even meet my eyes, but she says quietly, "This was your choice. You know being gay is a sin. I just don't understand why you'd want to do that."

"It's who I am," I cry in a breaking voice. 

"Do I need to repeat myself again?" my dad snarls. 

I stand there for one more second, letting reality sink in. And then I bolt. I run out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom where I gather together as many bags as I have and pack up everything I can fit inside them. As I finish with my clothes and move on to my CDs, my bedroom door whips open, and I spring my head up, scared of who I'm going to see. 

I'm relieved when it's Amber standing there. Instantly, I burst into tears and stand up to go over to her, and she embraces me in a hug. She holds me for a moment before letting me go. That's when I see four of her own bags sitting in the hallway behind her. 

"You're coming with me," she says. "We're in this together."

I didn't realize I had any tears left, but I somehow find more to release. 

"Where are we going to go?" I ask through a wavering voice. 

"Iris said we could stay at her apartment until we get one of our own," Amber answers. 

"Thank you," I utter. 

"Hey, I'm always here for you," she says, "through hell or high water."

That's something we always said to each other. Our parents never liked us saying that, because they think hell is a bad word. We always felt rebellious saying it anyway, and it quickly became our phrase as siblings. I never imagined we'd ever actually experience hell or high water, but I guess this is it, and we're in it together. 

**Cyrus' POV**

_Present Day_

Jamie sits at the kitchen table working on math homework. He's so quiet that I nearly forget he's there while I'm busy scrubbing at the rust in the sink. So far it's been half and hour and I've barely gotten anything off. The colour looks a little lighter, but it could just be wishful thinking clouding my vision. My arm is throbbing at this point, so I let go of the scrubbie and give myself a break, letting out a sigh of frustration. 

"You okay?" Jamie asks.

"Yeah," I breathe. "Don't worry about me. Focus on your homework."

Jamie puts his head back down to his notebook, but, as he reads, his leg starts bouncing, and pretty soon he's talking again. 

"Cyrus, what am I going to do if my dad doesn't want me back?" 

When I don't have an answer ready, he keeps speaking. 

"Will I go into foster care? Will I have to be adopted?" His voice falls as he says, "Who am I kidding? I won't be adopted. Nobody would want a f*ggot for a son."

"Don't say that," I snap, sounding more upset than I should. 

Jamie is taken aback by the sharpness of my response, and he looks back down at the table. His eyes are glistening with tears, and I see one drip onto his schoolwork. I want to be calmer, but it's difficult for me to keep my personal feelings out of this situation. 

"I'm sorry," I say. "I just don't want you talking about yourself that way. You'll be okay."

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," he whimpers. 

"I don't either," I confess. "But we'll figure it out."

Jamie nods, clearly not fully believing that. While he attempts to continue his homework, my sight drifts to the window that displays the clear view of the neighbour's house siding. I sigh, feeling defeated by this house. All of the issues are starting to really bother me, and it's becoming more work than I'm up for. 

The front door opens a second later, and TJ enters in and makes his way over to me in the kitchen. He notices the cleaning supplies sitting on the counter and peeks into the sink. 

"Cleaning the sink?" he asks. 

"More like trying and failing," I respond bitterly. 

"It'll work," he says. "We've just got to keep at it."

"Or we can buy a new sink," I mumble. "Because we have money for that," I add, my voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"You've been working hard," TJ acknowledges. "I'll finish cleaning it tonight."

"Well, good luck," I say.

What TJ says next takes me completely off guard, pulling at the last string that was keeping my stress tied in.

"I called my parents."

I feel my seams split open, anger foaming out as I shout, "You did what?"

Jamie's eyes snap up from his work, and he stands, saying, "I'm going to go out—I don't know—somewhere."

He hurries toward the front door and shuts it quickly behind him, the slam ringing out after he's gone. 

TJ looks surprised by my reaction, but I don't see why. He knew how I felt about this. 

"Why do you feel the need to talk to those people again?" I interrogate. 

"They're my parents," he replies. 

"They're the people who cast you out of their house when they were supposed to love you unconditionally. They left you to get through life on your own."

"I just . . . I wanted to give them a chance."

"To do what? To hurt you again?" I shout. 

My vision is blurred by my tears, but I can't hold them back. TJ is emotional now too. His face is becoming red with anger, and I know he's getting worked up, but so am I, so I can't bring myself to care enough to tone it down. 

"I was thinking that they might've changed their minds," TJ explains, "and they wanted to come to dinner to see me again, so—"

"You invited them into our house?" I yell, drowning out whatever he was about to say next. 

"Yes!" TJ defends. "They're my parents!"

"Well, you're my husband!" I combat. "And I don't want them to break us the way they did before!"

That shuts TJ down, sending the room into silence, tainted only by the sound of my sniffling. 

"Is that what this is really about?" TJ asks, quieter now. "You're not afraid of what they'll do. You're afraid of what I'll do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger. Wow. Now I've got to write a paper, so I probably won't update tomorrow. How y'all feeling? Hopefully intrigued? My heart was beating fast writing the first part. I love you all. Have a great day.


	10. The Breakup

**Cyrus' POV**  
  
  


_7 Years Ago_

The diner is noisy due to the buzz of conversation around our booth as well as the clacking of billiard balls from the pool tables nearby. I have to lean in to hear TJ speak across the table as he answers my question about what he's going to order.

"Probably just water and fries," he says. 

"Not hungry?" I ask, puzzled.

"No, I just—" he pauses "—don't have a ton of money to spend. I just got groceries for me and Amber, so I might as well eat at home."

"Well, I can pay for you," I offer. 

"No, you don't need to do that," TJ refutes. 

"TJ, I don't want you worrying about your wallet," I say. "Just order whatever you want, and I'll pay."

TJ looks like he wants to argue some more, but he accepts my offer with a reluctant nod. "Thanks."

He looks back down at his menu, now having to sort through many more options, but I keep my eyes on him, watching the way his eyelashes flutter and his hair falls over his forehead. Then I'm reminded of something. 

"Hey, can you send me those photos of us from the park yesterday?" I ask. 

"Uh, yeah," TJ says, "once I get home. I've already reached my data limit for the month, and I don't exactly have the money to go over."

"Oh," I respond. "Yeah, of course. That's okay."

TJ looks down at the menu for one more minute before abruptly clearing his throat and standing up.

"I'm gonna go to the washroom," he says. 

"Okay," I say. 

He nods and walks off toward the back of the diner. While he's gone, I hear cheering come from the pool tables across the room. Curious to see what's captured the attention of the swarm of teens, I get up to go over to join them. 

Now I can see what's happening. Two girls are competing at a game of pool. They're both silent, carefully planning each move, while the watchers are making the noise, shouting suggestions at them that they don't listen to. 

I notice the space to my right close in all of a sudden and glance over to see a boy standing next to me. Immediately, his shocking blue eyes make themselves known, and a streak of his jet black hair curls over his forehead. Although I have no intention to converse with him at all, he makes the executive decision to speak up. 

"I don't usually flirt with guys I just meet, but I think in this case, I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't give it a shot with you," he says, flashing a charming grin. 

"Your confidence is remarkable," I note, "but I have a boyfriend."

"Of course, you do," he says, shaking his head. "All the cute ones do."

I feel myself blush at the compliment, and he steps away to join a group of people who I assume must be his friends. When I turn back around, I'm happy to see TJ standing by me, but he looks dismayed for some reason. 

"Who was that?" he asks, eyes peering past me at the boy who was just with me.

"I don't know, actually," I reply. "He just started talking to me."

"And flirting with you," he adds. 

I'm surprised by his apparent discomfort. We've both been hit on by other people before, and that's always been just some funny stories that we laugh about after the fact, neither one of us bothered by it, but this time is different for him, and I don't know why. Seeing him looking blue like this makes my heart drop and my whole body feel unsettled. We've been together for so long that his emotions seem to rub off onto me somehow. Sometimes they're so strong that I wish I didn't feel them. This is one of those times. Hands beginning to quake from anxiousness, I take my boyfriend's hand and pull him over to the corner of the room away, from the crowd of people.

"TJ, you know he doesn't matter to me," I state, voice firm in an attempt to drill that into his brain. "I'm with you."

TJ pulls his eyes up from the floor to say, "Maybe you shouldn't be." 

The words come out so fast, so absolute, that I question if he even said them at all. 

"What are you talking about?" I say. 

His speech now is low, tainted by the undertones of shattered breath, a style I only hear when he's on the edge of falling apart. But he's not cracking. He's holding himself together, turning to stone rather than to mush. 

"Cyrus, I have too much happening in my life right now to be there for you. Hell, I can't even pay for dinner for us," he says. "My parents might've been onto something when they got rid of me."

"Don't say that," I snipe, my own voice bitter and heated. I can't stand it when he talks down on himself like this. It only makes me feel his pain even harder. 

TJ quiets for a moment, not meeting my eyes. After a moment he looks up again and continues.

"Cyrus, you're so much better than me," he mutters. "You deserve to be with someone who can give you the world, and I can't do that."

"TJ, you are my world," I crack. 

I'm in tears now, cheeks damp like its raining inside, but TJ is emotionless, a blank canvas with nothing to show, and that frustrates me even more. He's being stupid, careless. He doesn't know what he's saying. He can't know what he's saying. If he did, then I'd have to accept it.

"You're world is broken," TJ croaks softly. 

The response shuts me up, and I don't know what to do to change his mind—his stupid, stubborn mind. 

"I think we should break up," he says after a minute, "so that you can be with someone who actually deserves you."

I can't find any words in my throat. I have too many flying through my mind to catch onto the ones needed to form a sentence. So instead I just shake my head. I shake it so certainly, so fiercely to make sure there's no way it could be misinterpreted as a nod. But maybe it's not enough, because TJ's response is the opposite of what I hope for. 

"Yes," he says. 

I stand silent, staring up at this boy who will no longer look me dead in the eyes. I wonder if it's because he knows his stone facade would shatter if he did. 

"Don't worry about driving me home," he says as he takes a step backward, pulling on my heart as he does. "I'll walk."

Then he turns around, and I feel my heart rip in two as he drags half of it away with him.

**TJ's POV**

_Present Day_

"Yes."

Cyrus' puffy eyes burn into mine, corroding away at the anger I felt. In an instant I'm no longer mad at him for wanting to dictate my life, for it's replaced by a gaping dispiritedness that curdles my core. It suddenly hits me that Cyrus is crying, and Cyrus crying is something I can hardly bear to witness. 

"I'm sorry," I utter. "Breaking up with you was by far the worst decision I've ever made. But please know that nothing could make me do something as stupid as that again. I love you, and I am yours for as long as you want me."

Cyrus lets out a breath in the form of a sort of laugh-sob hybrid. 

"I'll always want you," he sputters, a smile relighting on his face. "I'm sorry too. You can talk to your parents if that's what you want. I'll support you."

His blessing is something I needed to feel content with this choice, and now that I have it, my head feels about ten times lighter. 

"Thank you," I say. 

I step in to meet him in an embrace as he reaches out to hug me. I hold on to him for an extra minute just to nail in the truth that I'm not going anywhere, and he takes me in like the soil takes in the rain. 

When we finally part, I notice the open workbooks on the table and wander over to take a closer look at them. 

"He's doing Trigonometry now, eh?"

"Yeah," Cyrus responds, coming over to join me. "Sort of. He was trying to work on it, but he was pretty distracted."

"With what?"

"He was asking me what's going to happen to him if his dad doesn't want him back. He was wondering if he's going to go into foster care or if he'll be adopted."

"If his dad really doesn't come back for him, then I believe he'll be okay," I say. "He's a really good kid."

"He is," Cyrus agrees. He waits a few seconds before continuing, saying, "Hey, you remember when we said how we might want kids someday?"

I look up at him, curious as to where this is going. "Yeah."

"What if we adopted Jamie?"

I hadn't even thought of that as a possibility, but now that he's brought it up, the idea is suddenly stuck in my mind. We could adopt this boy who needs a home and a family who cares about him. We could do something for him and us. I find myself falling quick for the suggestion, but I don't want to become to attached to it yet, because I still want Jamie's father to realize his mistake and make things right. There's still hope for them. 

"I think," I begin, "let's wait a few more days to give his dad the chance to make the right choice. But if he doesn't, then I'd be on board with that idea."

Cyrus smiles and rises on his tip toes to kiss me. The first kiss after a fight has always felt different. It's rawer, for we've both just poured out our entire beings onto a tray, and now there's nothing left hidden. We're basking in the heat of our everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird final line, but for some reason I really liked it, so I kept it. I really like this part, so I hope you all like it too. The flashback for the next chapter will hopefully be pretty interesting. I'm excited to write it. Also, only 3 more parts left! Then I'll be working on We Are KAAFF. If you haven't checked that story out yet, please go take a look at it! I love you all. Bye!


	11. Reconnection

**Cyrus' POV**  
  
  
  


_4 Years Ago_  
  
  


Everything is dimly lit, for the only light sources are the swivelling purple and green spotlights above the dance floor and the blue lamps by illuminating the bar. I don't go clubbing often, but Buffy does, and tonight she decided to drag me along with her. She said I needed to get out again and talk to people, make some friends, so her solution is to shove me into the middle of a room filled with tipsy adults. 

Buffy and I stay at the edge of the cluster of people on the dance floor. The DJ mixes together two pop songs that I am completely unfamiliar with, but they make Buffy bop her head. 

"Clubbing is so much more fun for me now that I don't have to worry about creeps hitting on me," Buffy says. "The ring is a bit of a deterrent."

She grins wide as she shows off her engagement ring. The diamond sparkles in the coloured lights. Since Marty proposed, she's been excited 24/7, constantly talking about her plans for the wedding, so I'm surprised it took her this long tonight to mention anything about her getting married. 

I'm happy for her. Don't get me wrong. But her engagement has brought back memories of the man I blocked years ago. I wonder if TJ and I hadn't broken up, would we be engaged by now too? I never had any defined plan, but I thought for sure we'd get married. But I guess things change, and people split apart. And sometimes they come back together. But that couldn't be us. We've been damaged for too long now. Still, I wonder, if I saw him again—if while Buffy spots her friends from one of her classes and heads out to join them on the dance floor, and I, being far less social, slide to the back of the room to sit down at the bar and watch the noisy people around me, someone with blonde hair that swoops over on either side of his head, and a jawline as sharp as the street corner we used to drive around at night to forget about everything except us, sat down at the bar a few seats away from me—would he even recognize me? Will he recognize me? 

It takes me a second to accept what I'm seeing. Maybe it's just the lighting that's making this random guy look like the one in my memories. That must be it. He's not talking to me, yet I thought I saw him do a double take when his eyes fell on me for an instant. I turn my focus back out to the dancers. It's not him. There's no way it's him. But then the blonde figure comes over to occupy the empty stool next to mine, and I feel my heart accelerating in my chest, reaching its maximum when he speaks. 

"Chocolate Chocolate Chip Muffin, right?" 

I can't believe he remembers that. That was the first time we ever really talked. I knew I had the moment memorized, but I never realized he did too. 

I look over to meet his gaze as I respond, "Scary Basketball Guy."

A bit of what seemed like fear loosens from his expression, and he smiles slightly. 

"So do you hang out here a lot?" he asks. 

"Only when I'm feeling bad about myself."

"I get that," TJ says, going a bit off track from the memory I have. "Usually this makes me feel better."

I'm no longer repeating a moment. I'm genuinely curious as I wonder, "What do you have to feel better about?"

His eyes go sad as he releases a long breath. "Everything."

I look down at my hands twiddling in my lap. Everything. He's referring to the tsunami of heartbreak, being deprived of the person I loved, and having my earth pulled out from under my feet that he threw upon me. He's referring to something that would've been considered unforgivable if it had been done by anyone else. But it was him.

"I acted like a total and complete idiot," TJ goes on.

"That much is obvious," I mutter.

"I thought you deserved better than me," TJ explains. 

"Don't I deserve what I want?" I question, halting his apology. 

"Yes," TJ breathes. 

"Well, I wanted you."

I can't help but feel emotional as he stares at me, winding his eyes into my skull the way they always did. They latch on to me so that I'm incapable of breaking free, but I don't think I want to anyway. 

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," TJ confesses. "Wherever I went, whatever I did, you were always there in the back of my brain."

"I know the feeling," I sigh. 

"What about me?" TJ asks. "Do you think I deserve what I want?"

I take a moment before replying, "I do."

"What if what I want is you?" 

I feel a shock like electricity that causes my breathing to stutter. I've been dreaming about this happening, but I didn't think it ever actually would. It reminds me of that time back in middle school when we were in Andi's yard, confessing our feelings for each other for the first time out loud. 

Finally, after a tense minute, I answer, "Then you have me."

TJ lets out a breath like he's been holding it in for years and smiles. Then his hand inches over to mine, but I beat him to it, linking my hand with his. I've been waiting so long to do this again. We keep our eyes connected, neither of us saying anything, letting our minds settle into the silence, into the peace there hasn't been since we broke up.

**TJ's POV**

_Present Day_

  
  


"Where's Jamie again?" I ask Cyrus.

Cyrus continues setting plates on the kitchen table as he replies, "He's working on a project at a friend's house."

"That's good," I say. "I'd rather not have him meet my parents. Might cause more stress for him than he already has, considering they did the same thing to me as his dad did to him."

Cyrus sets down the last dish, saying, "I hope this works out for you. I want you to have a good relationship with your parents. I really do."

I smile and wind around the table as I say, "Thank you."

He reaches for my hand to lock ours together, and I tilt my head down to meet him with a kiss. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and we both tense up. Cyrus looks as though he's ready to play defence at any moment as I give his hand a squeeze and shuffle over to the door to open it. I don't know what I was expecting to feel. I thought I'd feel angry, but I don't. Seeing their faces, I just feel sad. I'm sad that they didn't want me, sad that we haven't spoken in years, sad that they couldn't be at my wedding smiling from the front row like Cyrus' parents were. They both stand on the deck smiling, but I can't form any words to greet them. Thankfully, Cyrus comes to my rescue. 

"Hello," he says to my parents. 

"Hi, Cyrus," my dad replies. "Been a while."

"Yes, it has." His voice is washed in bitterness, but he tries to smile and look happy. 

Still unable to talk, I step aside and gesture for my parents to step in. Once they're removed their shoes and coats, I manage to find my voice again. 

"Mom, Dad," I say, "This is my husband."

I know they know Cyrus, but I feel like I just need to reintroduce them to him, because I think we're both a lot different than we were back then. 

"So," my dad inquisites, "when you said you two were best friends in high school—"

"We were actually boyfriends," I finish for him. 

My parents both share a glance. I can't read their faces. They don't seem especially delighted, but not disgusted either. 

"Uh, come take a seat," I say, motioning toward the kitchen. 

I lead them over to the table where they sit down across from Cyrus and I. I see my mom peek at the supper sitting in glass dishes on the kitchen counter, which Cyrus and I spent nearly two hours cooking. 

"Smells amazing," my mom says with a smile.

"Thanks," I respond. "We can eat now if you want. I wasn't sure if you wanted to wait a bit first."

"Actually," my mom says, "before we eat, would your father and I be able to talk with you, just the family."

She eyes Cyrus as she says that, and he immediately glances to me, looking for direction. 

"Well, Cyrus is my husband," I counter, "so he's part of the family too."

Cyrus looks pleased, but my parents don't. They look at Cyrus again in what looks like a glare, but the sourness quickly dissolves as my mother presses a smile on her face again. 

"Okay," my mother accepts. She positions herself to face me more as though trying to pretend Cyrus isn't here. "We just want to apologize to you."

"I appreciate that," I say but maybe a little too soon, because then my mom keeps talking.

"We should've tried to fix you rather than give up on you right away the way we did."

At that, I lean back in my chair, feeling naive for thinking they might have actually changed their perspectives. They haven't, but I wanted so badly to believe the best. I feel Cyrus' eyes on me, monitoring my response to the situation, but he stays quiet, and so do I.

"We can help you," my mom continues. "You can still change. It's not too late to go back to God. You can find a wife and—"

"I'm not changing," I finally snap, slamming my hand down on the table. 

The noise shocks both my parents, but Cyrus doesn't even jolt, for he has a smidge of a smile on his face. 

"Well, I hope you're happy in hell, then," my dad barks back, releasing what has clearly been boiling under his skin for a while, "because that's where you'll be going."

That's when Cyrus springs up out of his chair, no longer content with staying quiet. 

"I think it's time for you both to leave," he says.

My parents give expressions of bewilderment.

"You don't have the authority to oust us," my mother spits. 

I stand up, rebutting, "Yes, he does."

Cyrus and I share a smirk, then he looks back to my parents, saying, "Please remove yourselves from our household."

My parents look appalled, but they do as requested and whip around then stomp toward the door. The throw on their coats and stuff their feet into their shoes. 

As they open the door, I make one more comment. "And I'm cool with going to hell as long as Cyrus'll be there too."

They ignore me, and my dad slams the door behind him, making the whole house rattle. 

Now that they're gone, I feel my hard shell of anger crack, and tears come flowing down my face. Cyrus immediately pulls me into a hug, and I cling to him as though he could make time rewind and this meeting play out again but properly this time. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, still holding onto me. "I know you wanted this to work."

"It's my own fault," I sob as I step apart from my husband. "I was the one who was gullible enough to believe they'd gotten better."

"No," he says. "You were hopeful. There's nothing wrong with that."

I barely have time to let Cyrus' smile sink in and comfort me, because the doorbell rings, stealing both of our attention. I think it must be my parents, but when Cyrus opens the door, it's not. Instead, it's a man with brown hair, which is fading to grey, and eyes that are round and dark like Jamie's. He looks exhausted, worn out from whatever quest he'd gone on before getting to our door. 

"I've checked everywhere I thought he might be," the man says, sounding as though there's not enough air to support his sentence. "Please tell me he's here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola. This is a long chapter, but I think it was worth it. I like it. I'm sorry for anyone who was hoping for things to work out with TJ's parents. Not everything works out I guess, but it's okay, because sometimes you just need to pick yourself up and move on, because the people who you need are the ones who need you. That mutual support is what matters. I love you all, and have a lovely night. Two more parts left!


	12. Promises

**TJ's POV**

_3 Years Ago_

"This is the special, fine-dining restaurant you're taking me to?" Cyrus says as we come up the street together. "The Spoon?"

"Hey, this place is special," I say.

I step ahead to get the door for him, and he smiles at the gesture. We both enter in, and Cyrus naturally drifts toward the booth by the window. 

"I haven't been here since we were in high school," Cyrus comments. "Remember when you apologized to a trash can?"

I let out a chuckle and sit down across from him. He immediately reaches for the menu, even though I know he has it memorized. 

"Remember when you sent me that list of things you couldn't do?" I counter. 

His face turns red as a tomato. "Yeah. I can't believe I sent you that."

"It was quite the interesting read."

"You actually read it?" Cyrus replies, jumping a little in surprise. "It was, like, fifty points long."

"Actually, it was sixty-two," I correct him.

"Oh my god," he mutters, putting his head down in his arms on the table. A second later, he peeks his eyes up again, saying, "You did read it."

"Yeah, I remember trying to figure out how to help you learn all of the things you wanted to learn. I never got the chance to help you with them, though, because I was too nervous. Just being around you made my stomach do somersaults and my brain forget what I was planning to say."

Cyrus grins at that as he sits up again. "You were lovestruck. That's cute."

I shake my head, laughing as I feel my own face heat up now. He's always done that to me. He knows that, because I've told him many times before. It's not embarrassing or awkward to admit how he makes me feel the way it was when we were in middle school. It's just the truth. 

We're interrupted by the server who asks us what we want to eat. We both recite our regular orders from when we were teenagers, the common piece being a basket of baby taters to share. The last time I was here, Amber still worked here, but then she happened to meet a woman downtown one day who happened to be the owner of a real estate business, and Amber stopped to help this lady pick up the portfolio that she dropped, not knowing that that simple act of neighbourliness would land her a job. Since she had to provide for both of us, she never had the opportunity to go to college, but now she's a realtor full time. I don't know whether it was God or fate, or everyone is wrong and Santa really does exist, but I feel thankful every day that she was able to create a life with such a difficult start. 

As the server leaves, Cyrus returns to our previous conversation. "You did teach me one thing: how to do a somersault."

"Right," I remember. "That was fun. Though, I spent a while trying to figure out what one of your points on the list meant."

His eyebrows scrunch in question. "Which one?"

"Tell TJ," I recall. 

His mouth drops open in shock. "That was on there?" 

I nod, grinning at his reaction. Even flustered, he's adorable. 

"I forgot to take that off," Cyrus says. "I can't believe it. And you didn't tell me."

"I didn't know what it meant, and I was too awkward to ask," I confess. 

"Well, now you know what it meant," he says. 

I smile. Yes, now I do know what it meant, but back when I was 13 and feeling all these feelings that I didn't know how to put words to, I was too scared to want to know. If he liked me, then I'd have to face my own emotions, the ones I was trying to keep repressed. Eventually, I couldn't keep them a secret any longer, from him or myself. I know we're not the same as we were back then. We spent over two years apart, and when we got back together, it was weird both rekindling what we once had and lighting something new. It was stronger than before, because now we both knew that we were made for each other, and that was that. There was no more doubt in either of our minds, none of that mumbling in the back of a stressed teenager's brain that questioned whether he was holding someone back from what they were supposed to be. He's supposed to be mine, and I'm supposed to be his, and we're supposed to be us, one. 

"You know, I had a list too," I say. "Not a list of things I couldn't do. More like a bucket list. I'm still adding things to it."

"Ooh, can I see it?" he asks. 

"Sure."

I take out my phone and send him the list, trying hard to keep my face neutral and not let a smile break through. When he gets it, he eagerly looks, only to have his eyebrows go up and mouth fall open again. Then his eyes look up at me, but his hands are still clutching his phone. 

"There's only one thing on here," he utters. 

"Really?" I say, pretending to be surprised. "Well, I can cross that off right now."

I stand up out of the booth and get down of one knee, causing Cyrus to drop his phone and put his hands over his mouth, and the whole diner turns to watch us. Filling with tears rapidly, his eyes are wide as though he needs to capture as much of this moment as possible, and his face is burning pink. My pounding heart threatens to break loose, which makes my hands shake, but I manage to pull out the little box and open it up. Cyrus stares at the contents, speechless. 

"It's just a promise ring until I can save up enough to buy an engagement ring," I explain, "but I didn't want to wait any longer to ask: will you marry me?"

Cyrus takes his hands away from his mouth and furrows his brows as he exclaims, "That's the most redundant question I've ever heard! Of course, I'll marry you!"

The room thunders out in applause, complete with whoops and cheers. I slide the ring onto the finger of my now-fiancé, and he stands up to kiss me. 

When I was sixteen, I told my sister I was going to marry Cyrus one day. Now I'm one step closer to keeping my promise. 

**Cyrus' POV**

_Present Day_

I'm still taking in what's in front of my eyes. Ron has purple bags under his eyes, showing that he must be lacking sleep. He's here for Jamie. Jamie isn't like TJ, and Ron isn't like TJ's parents. 

"He's not here," I explain. 

I've never seen someone turn grey as fast as Ron does now. Hopeless floods into his eyes, and I know I have to explain the rest before he falls apart. 

"He'll be back later," I say. "He's at a friend's house working on homework."

"Oh." 

The colour comes back to Ron's face as he finds his breath again. 

"You probably think I'm horrible," he says. "I don't blame you. I was wrong. I don't know what I was thinking. I just didn't know what to do, and I didn't want him to be gay, because I didn't want him to be bullied and discriminated against . . . I became the bad guy, but I just wanted him to change his mind. I thought if I gave him an ultimatum that he'd realize he wasn't gay . . . It's so completely irrational saying it out loud."

"Loving him unconditionally is part of being a father," I respond. "Even if no one else accepts him, you should. And that would be enough."

"I know," Ron replies. "At least now I do." That's when his eyes fall past me and notice TJ. He collects himself, standing up straighter, as he says, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."

"He's not company," I say, trying to hold back the smug grin that is prying at my lips to get out. Something about correcting new people on TJ's relationship with me is always a little funny, because they rarely ever expect it. "He's my husband."

Ron's eyes go wider than the pacific ocean. I wonder if he's ever met a gay person knowingly before me and his son. That seems to be where the discrimination comes from almost every time: ignorance. 

"You two seem happy," he comments.

"We are," I say.

"That's all I want for my boy," Ron goes on. "I went about it the wrong way, but if he'll be happy, then who am I to want him to change?"

The blur of brown hair suddenly appears behind the man on my porch, and I shift over a little to get a better view of the 13 year-old who stands with watery eyes at the bottom of the steps. Ron notices my gaze and spins around to meet the sight of his son. In an instant the family runs together in a hug, both latching on to each other so tight you'd think there was a tornado about to sweep them away. As I watch the weeping father and son, I feel an arm close around my shoulder, and I lean into TJ's body, letting his muscular arms encompass me completely as we find a rhythm in a slight and slow rock back and forth. 

So we won't be adopting Jamie anymore, but I'm okay with that. Jamie has a father who loves him. Someday, we'll have our time to be fathers to some beautiful child, but until then, we have each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this took a year, but I'm finally back. I've been super busy with schoolwork, and I still am. I have four projects due in just over a week, so wish me luck. That said, I apologize in advance for the time it's going to take me to get out the final chapter of this story and the next ones of We Are KAAFF. I want to publish the next three parts all at once for that story, so it's going to take me a bit longer than usual to update that one, but it's going to be rad. I promise. I love you all. Have a good night!


	13. Epilogue

**TJ's POV**   
  
  


_Present Day_   
  
  


Cyrus and I are sharing the new olive green sofa chair, leaving the couch for Amber, Andi, and Walker, with Jonah sitting on the armrest. Buffy has little Sabrina on her lap in the other sofa chair, which has a bronze diamond pattern that doesn't at all match the one Cyrus and I are in, and Marty's pulled up one of the kitchen seats to be next to her. After finally finding the time to do a mass shopping spree to furnish the house, Cyrus and I now feel like the place is ours enough that we could host this dinner potluck with our friends. 

Everyone's finished supper at this point, so now our guests are nibbling on the deserts that Cyrus and I spent 3 hours making in the kitchen. While the rest of the group is caught up in conversation about Sabrina learning how to clap, I get a sudden impulse to bring my lips to my husband's cheek. Cyrus, who's sitting half on my lap and half off due to the lack of space, grins and switches his view to me to kiss my lips. Although still contained enough to keep it PG for our guests who aren't even paying attention, his kiss is strawberry whipped cream: soft, full, and sweet enough to make me crave more.

"Did you ever think we'd have this?" he says as he leans his head against my shoulder.

"A new chair?"

"No," he responds with a laugh. "This. Us here with our friends in our own house with a life and just . . . this. I'm excited for everything coming next."

"Me too," I agree with a smile. "I'm also excited to see something else coming pretty soon."

Cyrus furrows his brows. "What?"

"You'll see," I reply. "Any time now."

Any time turns out to be any second, as Andi suddenly stops talking, and Cyrus and I look to see her staring at the cupcake she's holding. I don't spot it at first, but then I see the twinkle of the ring coming from the top of the icing, and Amber takes a knee to propose to the dumbfounded Andi.

"Andi, when I met you, I had no idea we'd become so close. I always knew I wanted you to be at my wedding, and I remember the promise we made when we were best friends in high school to be each other's bridesmaids. But now, I'm hoping we could tweak that a little bit. Instead, I want you to be my bride."

All of us watchers wait in suspense for a moment before Andi finally nods and stands up to kiss Amber. The two girls are practically glowing with happiness, and it makes me smile to see my sister completing a storyline that's been playing out since she met her soulmate, first as enemies, now as partners.

"You knew about this?" Cyrus whispers me to.

I nod.

"I know about something else."

That something else happens to be Jonah lowering down on his knee, saying, "Well, now I have to top that."

At first, Walker looks confused until Jonah takes out the ring he's been carrying in his jacket pocket. Walker lets out a chuckle, which Jonah catches like a cold, and soon the two boys are both in tears of laughter until Walker finally pulls Jonah up onto his feet to kiss him, answering the question he hadn't yet asked.

And just like that, the middle school ships that Cyrus and I hypothesized when we were younger are complete, and I take a little pride in knowing that I was right. We've been watching each other grow up since we were teenagers, and, although we've drifted apart, the streams have always converged again, keeping us together. The world surely must know what it's doing. It knows that we're supposed to be together, because no matter what happens, they're always the ones who will be there when others won't.

Cyrus' hand squeezes mine, bringing me out of my head and back to this moment, and I realize how similar my fantasy is to what exists before my eyes.   
  
  


**Cyrus' POV**   
  
  


_11 Years Ago_   
  
  


Buffy, Jonah, Andi, and I all sit on the furniture in Andi's yard. It's nearing 1:00 a.m., and the party's been dead for a while now, but the four of us are still wide awake, energized from all the events of the night.

"I can't believe TJ Kippen likes me," I say, unable to control the grin on my face. "I have a boyfriend."

"I'm so happy for you!" Buffy says. "Who would've thought TJ Kippen would turn out to be . . ."

"Not a horrible person," I finish for her. "Actually amazing. Mine."

My three friends share a collective glance, smiling at how much I'm smiling.

"You guys are really cute together," Andi says. "I wonder if you'll get married someday."

"Marriage," I respond, "is a very uncertain variable in the future."

Buffy ignores my statement, focusing on Andi's comment instead. Her excitement level goes from zero to a hundred in an instant. "Can I be a groomswoman?"

"Me too," Andi piggybacks on.

"Add me to that list too," Jonah says.

My face is burning up with embarrassment, but the fantasy of TJ and I possibly getting married one day makes butterflies rush through me.

"If he happens to be the person I marry, then sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done. I hope you all liked this story! I sure did. I'm hyped to continue We Are KAAFF, and I think it's gonna be rad as heck. Thank you for reading, and I love you all!


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